


Rhythm Boys

by somethingsintheair



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen, altercations, and implied violence, mom sung, there's like a mention of blood but that's about it, they're bffs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:32:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10104833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingsintheair/pseuds/somethingsintheair
Summary: Havve and Meouch are really good friends. Really. Totally. I swear.





	1. Chapter 1

Havve was pretty okay with most of the band. Lord Phobos was quiet. Calm. Good company. Doctor Sung was a little obnoxious, if anything, but he was loyal. An honest, reliable man.

Conversely, he fucking _loathed_ Meouch. The bassist didn't have a single redeemable quality. If he wasn't blasting his bass until the early hours of the morning, he was making a variety of revolting sounds with whatever unfortunate Earth woman he managed to drag into his room that night. 

Coincidentally, Meouch was fucking terrified of Havve. The cyborg stared at him with that cold, blank expression that he seemed to reserve especially for Meouch. He scared off his partners. He brandished sharp objects far too liberally around him. And the rare occasions when they did speak alone, Meouch always left feeling vaguely like he was going to throw up.

Sung didn't know. He chalked it up to simple, friendly banter between two bandmates. They all loved each other, of course, why else would they have formed a band together?

He rarely questioned any racket coming from down in the basement. That's where Havve kept his drums, after all, a little noise was to be expected. But when he heard the distinct sound of his bassist’s voice-- shouting, to be precise-- he realized that may be cause for concern.

He ran down the stairs to find a situation that was… considerably worse than he was expecting. Meouch was pinned up against the wall by Havve, a firm hand wrapped around his neck. The nearby drumset was a mess, falling apart right next to them. Sung’s eyes widened when he realized the drummer was holding a screwdriver.

“Wh-- Havve, no!” he shouted as he rushed towards them. Havve immediately dropped everything, including the Commander, who was left gasping for breath as he sat on the floor. 

“What the hell is going on here?” Sung asked, sounding much more confused than angry.

“THE COMMANDER WAS TAMPERING WITH MY DRUMS.” Havve crossed his arms. “I WILL NOT STAND FOR THAT.”

“I wasn’t _tampering_ with anything!” Meouch insisted, “I was just looking for a fuckin’ screwdriver!”

“EXACTLY. SO THAT YOU COULD USE IT TO TAMPER WITH MY DRUMS.”

“One of my tuning keys is loose, I was gonna fix it!” Meouch cried. Sung noticed he was holding his hands to his chest.

“LIES. YOU WERE STANDING BEHIND MY DRUMSET.”

“It’s not my fault someone left the fuckin’ toolbox back here!”

“THAT MAY BE. BUT I NEED IT MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE.”

“Yeah, only ‘cause you’re a big hunk of junk,” Meouch muttered, and instantly regretted his words.

 

* * *

 

A good ten minutes later, things had finally settled down. Sung had both Meouch and Havve sat down in the living room, albeit reluctantly. He had Meouch’s injured hand, and was carefully wiping away the blood as he spoke.

“So it seems to me as if this was all just a simple misunderstanding,” he said. His kept a relatively calm tone to his voice, but the other two could tell that he was angry. “Havve’s drums were only damaged due to the… altercation that occurred, yes?”

“YES, BUT THE COMMANDER WAS THE ONE WHO STARTED--”

“I don’t care who started it,” Sung interrupted. “I’m ending it.” He glanced over the cut in Meouch’s palm before he started to wrap his hand in a bandage. “For the sake of everyone here, I’m going to assume the _screwdriver_ to the hand was no one’s fault in particular. However, I’m also going to reiterate the fact that we are all musicians here, and we need to be careful with our hands-- and our _throats,_ for those of us who use them.” He shot Havve a very deliberate look. “I think you owe the Commander an apology.”

Havve’s eyes flickered. “YOU KNOW I AM NOT ABLE TO FEEL GUILT OR REMORSE, DOCTOR. HOWEVER, IN HINDSIGHT, I SUPPOSE I COULD HAVE BEEN MORE GENTLE.” He turned his head to look at Meouch. “I APOLOGIZE.”

“Good, thank you.” Sung looked expectantly at the Commander. “And you?”

Meouch sighed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, uh… sorry for gettin’ close to your drums. Should’ve asked first, I guess.”

“Wonderful.” Sung smiled as he tied off the bandage. “You should be able to play bass again in a few days. Now hug and make up.”

He wasn’t really surprised when both men stood up and walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah no i couldn't just leave this alone

Things were about the same since the Incident. Phobos had sewn up the hole in Meouch’s glove, and he kept the bandage on underneath it. But it had been a few days, and he still couldn’t play his bass-- not that he hadn’t tried, of course, but all his attempts had only resulted in reopening the wound on his hand. He always had to go reluctantly to Sung for help.

“Hey, Doc,” Meouch muttered, awkwardly standing in the doorway of the doctor’s room. He couldn’t exactly knock on the door while he was holding a wad of paper towels to his bleeding hand, now could he?

Sung swiveled around in his desk chair, and his sunny expression immediately turned into one of disappointment. “ _Again?_ Let me see.”

After Sung patched his hand up for the third time, he was on his way. The rest of the day was considerably peaceful, considering the fact that Meouch and Havve hadn’t made any sort of contact just yet. Even by the time everyone had gone to sleep, Meouch still hadn’t caught sight of the drummer.

He always preferred to sleep out on the couch, even though Havve often decided to settle down and recharge in the same room. Sure, the guy was fucking horrifying when he was awake, but he was hardly that threatening when his eyes dimmed and he sat still in the cushioned armchair. Plus, if anything did go wrong, Sung would be there in a second. He had a sense for those sorts of things, even if he wasn’t nearby.

He wasn’t all that surprised to open his eyes to the sight of the cyborg sitting across from him-- although he _was_ surprised to wake up to a racket coming from that direction. Meouch yawned as he moved to sit up, and listened for it again. He heard a muffled clanking sound, followed by what sounded like a strained breath. He furrowed his brow as he stared at the robot. He didn't know Havve could breathe. Was that a thing? Weren't robots not supposed to do that?

Meouch stood up to get a closer look at Havve and find out just what was going on. As expected, the same sounds repeated, the muffled metallic sound and the wheezing breaths. Meouch frowned as he kneeled down in front of the robot. He took a cautious glance up at Havve's face, hesitating before he brought his ear up to his chest to listen in. Sure enough, he could hear the odd sounds even clearer then, along with the steady thumping of his mechanical heartbeat.

He let out a sigh and looked over at the clock on the cable box. 5:28 AM. The doctor's bedroom door was wide open, so he must've been out on his morning walk. And those always lasted far longer than they should, so Meouch knew he wouldn't be back for a while.

With a huff, Meouch turned back to Havve, only to be met with eyes glowing blood red. He froze in place, suddenly realizing their close proximity; he was practically leaning over Havve's lap, his arms resting on either side of the armchair to keep him upright. Meouch expected Havve to say something, to threaten him, but the robot decided to take action first. He grabbed the back of Meouch's mane-- pulling an involuntary growl out of him-- and used his grip to hold him upright so that he wasn't so close.

“COMMANDER. WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?”

Meouch could only let out another growl in reply, baring his fangs as he batted at Havve’s hand. But Havve was relentless, and simply tightened his grip.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION. WHY ARE YOU WITHIN MY PROXIMITY?”

“Y-you were makin’ a fuckin’ racket, Hogan,” Meouch snarled, pulling at Havve’s arm. He could still hear the sound of the robot’s strained breathing. “Something’s wrong with you, I’m tryin’a help.”

“IF THERE IS A PROBLEM, I DO NOT NEED YOUR HELP. WHERE IS THE DOCTOR?”

Meouch let out another growl, struggling to pry the robot’s hand off of his mane. “He’s out, it’s still early in the morning. He could be gone for hours.”

“I WILL WAIT FOR HIM.” Havve tossed Meouch to the floor. “GO AWAY.”

The Commander let out a grunt when his body hit the carpet, and rushed to stand back up in an attempt to regain some of his dignity. He reached to flatten out the back of his mane, with a low growl still rumbling in his chest. He gave his head a little shake to snap himself out of it.

“Well... well what are we s’posed to do if it gets worse and he’s still not back?” he asked.

“I WILL BE FINE. I ASSURE YOU. LEAVE ME ALONE.”

Meouch heard what sounded like a particularly agonizing wheeze, and watched as Havve shifted ever so slightly in his seat. His eyes were blinking at a slow but steady rate. “Oh yeah?” he challenged, “Then why are you makin’ those noises?”

“THERE DOES APPEAR TO BE A SLIGHT MALFUNCTION WITHIN MY CHEST CAVITY. HOWEVER, IT IS LIKELY NOT FATAL. I WILL WAIT UNTIL THE DOCTOR RETURNS.”

“A _slight malfunction?_ Your eyes only blink like that when somethin’s really wrong, Hogan.”

“THAT IS NOT RELEVANT, COMMANDER. IT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS.”

Meouch crossed his arms, glancing towards his bedroom door. He could leave. He could step out without a care in the world. He could escape without a scratch on him.

“Havve, c’mon, at least just lemme take a look.” The words came out before he even processed them himself. “You… you could be dying or something.”

“I DO NOT CARE. I WILL ONLY ACCEPT ASSISTANCE FROM THE DOCTOR.”

Another wheeze and a soft thumping sound came from Havve’s chest. Meouch let out a frustrated groan before he reached forward and made a move towards Havve’s chestplate. Strong hands gripped his wrists almost immediately, with nearly enough force to break them. Meouch cursed through gritted teeth.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME. YOU ARE INCOMPETENT. I WILL WAIT FOR THE DOCTOR.”

“Just lemme fuckin’ _look,_ Hogan,” Meouch growled. “I won’t touch anything. Doc’s gonna be pretty pissed if he comes home with one less band member, don’t ya think?”

With that, Havve was silent. He’d always had an unspoken loyalty to Doctor Sung, ever since they’d met-- that’s all he really needed to be convinced. He didn’t want to upset the guy who was keeping him alive, after all. 

There was a pause before he let go of Meouch’s wrists, and as the man shook his hands out to alleviate the pain, Havve carefully removed his chestplate. “DO NOT TOUCH ANYTHING.” He set the plate down carefully on his lap. “YOU ARE ONLY PERMITTED TO ASSESS THE DAMAGE VISUALLY.”

“Alright, alright, I got it.” Meouch nodded dismissively as he looked down at Havve’s chest to see what the issue was. He could still hear it, the sound of air escaping from… somewhere. The rhythm of his drum machine core seemed slower than normal. Meouch let out a sigh and moved in a little closer to Havve’s chest. “Can I just... get a better look here?” he asked, hands hovering in front of him. Havve smacked his hands away.

“ABSOLUTELY NOT.”

Meouch rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Hogan, I’m not gonna hurt you. I mean, fuck, do you even _feel_ anything in there?”

“THAT IS IRRELEVANT. I DO NOT WANT YOUR HANDS INSIDE OF ME.”

“Do you wanna _die?_ ”

Havve paused. He glanced towards Sung’s room. “I SUPPOSE NOT. PROCEED CAREFULLY.”

Meouch nodded before he leaned in and reached for Havve’s chest. Carefully, he pushed aside some wires, as well as some tubes that vaguely looked like arteries-- he didn’t want to think too hard about those. It took him a minute to find anything out of place, but when he did, he was more than a little concerned. He didn’t know much about robotics, but he was pretty sure nothing around there was supposed to be disconnected.

Regretfully, Havve noticed his worried expression. “WHAT IS IT?”

Meouch shook his head. “Nothin’ too bad, I… don’t think. Looks like some of your wires just got a little fucked.”

“I DO NOT BELIEVE THAT IS A SUFFICIENT DIAGNOSIS, COMMANDER. AND I DO NOT UNDERSTAND YOUR CHILDISH TERMINOLOGY. DEFINE ‘FUCKED.’”

“Just, uh… disconnected, kinda tangled up,” Meouch explained as he started untangling said wires with shaky hands. “I think I can fix it.”

“YOU THINK.”

“Yeah, I-I mean I… I can untangle them, for sure,” he said, more for himself than anything else. “Do you know where everything’s supposed to go, or…?”

“THEY SHOULD BE COLOR CODED.” 

Meouch blinked. “What?”

“THE DOCTOR USED COLORED WIRES. IN CASE ANYONE ELSE HAD TO PERFORM REPAIRS.”

Meouch let out a long, exasperated sigh. Leave it to Sung to color code the wires with full knowledge of the Commander’s partial color blindness.

It took a bit of finagling, quite a few disagreements, and some minor electric shocks, but Meouch eventually managed to get everything reattached to Havve’s core. He was sure to double check everything-- it was hard to tell, but he was almost sure Sung had used at least three different shades of orange to label the wires, which was entirely unnecessary but not really unexpected.

“Okay, uh… does that feel okay?” Meouch asked tentatively, glancing up at Havve’s face.

“I DO NOT FEEL MUCH OF ANYTHING. SO I CAN ONLY ASSUME IT IS FINE.”

“Alright. But, uh, your tempo’s still a little slow here…” Meouch frowned as he glanced at the small display screen attached to the side of the machine. “What does the doc usually set it to?”

Havve paused, seeming to think for a moment. “SIXTY BEATS PER MINUTE.”

Meouch nodded before he reached for the dial labeled TEMPO, and cranked it up until the number on display went from 46 to 60. “There, that should be okay,” he mumbled as he picked up Havve’s chestplate. “Do you think you can--”

“Oh!”

Meouch must’ve jumped a foot in the air before he clung to one of Havve’s legs like a lifeline.

It was Sung. Of course it was Sung.

“Wait, wait, go back to where you were!” the doctor called as he fled from the room, “Let me grab my camera!”


End file.
